More Proof I Am Not a Journalist and Other Stuff

Aloha!

(Or, if you’re being particularly obnoxious/”Hawaiian” about it) AlooooooooooHA!

My best friend lost her job – and the job provided housing so she is both jobless and homeless now – and is staying with me. Thus, millions of random pictures are being taken all the time whereas before I simply took pictures of the pets. Here I am being faux-outraged last night that the dog is attempting to lick my plate…as if this doesn’t happen daily.

First off, I have good news for you! I am going to do a better job about blogging. Like at least once a week. Scratch that. TWICE a week at least I will blog. Why’s that? you ask.

Well, because I freaking love it, that’s why!

I jest.

I mean, I don’t not love it, it’s just that it’s time-consuming and sometimes really hard to come up with something useful to tell you.

However, I attended this writing conference and kept getting hit over the head by all this “social media is more important than knowing how to spell” advice, and even though I’m exaggerating a bit on the spelling part, the one thing that’s clear is that I somehow have to build a “following” so that when my books are finally freaking published all of you will run out and buy them.

I was also told self-publishing is a bad joke (sorry self-published folks) even including Amazon or eBooks because

a) How do you know Amazon or whomever is being honest with you and really giving you your money? (Yikes! Don’t they already own the world? Do they really need to steal too?)

b) Unless you sell at least 10,000 copies it’s really more an embarrassment or proof that your parents love you (I know my dad is good for a solid 20 copies right off the cuff.) or a display of vanity and likely to be lost in a sea of garbage anyway. People were actually being encouraged to NOT ADMIT they’d self-published. You could sort of feel the shock and shame in the room. I’m too lazy to be self-published, so I just sat there and looked smug.

Anywho, it wasn’t all “you will probably never make it” and “you’re more likely to have sex with the Dalai Lama than see your book with a Penguin logo on it” (although there was a fair amount of that going on), I’m more determined than ever to write something worthy and that people are fighting over the right to publish, so in addition to these new-fangled efforts to build what one of my ex-boyfriends calls my “Legion of Followers” via this blog and I guess my Twitter and god help me, I suppose even Pinterest, I am also going to knuckle down on my fiction. Impossible odds, you say? I can’t help myself. I have a feeling…

In other news, I have been asked to start submitting one “fun” piece a week as part of my A&E writing gig here on Maui.

This is super freaking awesome, because basically it’s what I’d write for you guys…only less vulgar…and it has to be about Maui…and I’m not allowed to say “I” because my editor thinks that’s lazy. (???)

Too bad though, because one of my ideas REQUIRES that it be in first person and that’s how I’m writing it. So there.

Anywho, here is my first installment of the “fun” pieces which mocks all these people who keep trying this ridiculously dangerous four-day hike and getting themselves airlifted out of it.

I’m cutting it off halfway because I’m not entirely sure I have the rights to this even though I wrote it and because I happen to adore said editor and would never want to anger him. He can be quite the sharp-tongued serpent if you catch him on the wrong day. ;)

Dear Would-Be Olowalu to Iao Hiker

sat·ire

/ˈsaˌtī(ə)r/

Noun

A literary work in which human vice or folly is exposed or criticized through irony, derision, or wit.

Dear Would-Be Olowalu to Iao Valley Hiker,

It has come to our attention that you keep trying this, despite the preponderance of words like “certain death,” “impossible,” “beyond stupid,” and “Darwin Awards.”

Speaking of which, we can’t help but wonder if the ancient Hawaiians started the tale of this “trail” or “pass” as a means of thinning the herd; a survival of the fittest snipe hunt, if you will.

But we don’t actually know that. All we know is that attempting this hike is a terrible idea. Even “Maui Revealed” doesn’t recommend anyone take a shot at this insanity.

Thus, we are left to draw one conclusion as to your motives, oh intrepid hiker: you are on a suicide mission.

That stated, we offer up some helpful tips.

Not that we want you to die – not at all; in fact, please seek counseling or at least hike something reasonable like Polipoli and get your head on straight – but because we realize it must be disappointing when you hear the chopper overhead and know you’ll live on to see your name featured on this very website.

Plus, we can’t imagine what all these airlift rescues are going to do to our tax rates.

Presuming this is what you seek, and in no particular order, here’s how to ensure you never return from your “mission” to the Iao Valley via the back road.

Water is for cowards. That’s right. We said it. Looking to meet your maker somewhere before the summit? Dehydration is the name of the game.

Wait for several days of intense rain. Nothing says “no body was recovered” like a flash flood.

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